Page 53 of Inked Athena

That’s another surprising blow. “What? He didn’t— No one told me.”

That’s a trend around here, it seems. No one tells me anything.

“Myles said you were safe, but the way he talked about you, it almost sounded like you were sick. Are you… Nova, areyouokay? Where are you?”

I think back through the rules Myles laid out, repeating them to myself twice before I decide this next topic isn’t off-limits.

“I wanted to tell you in person, but at this point, I don’t know when that will—” The words lodge in my throat, and I shove the thought away before I devolve into tears and ruin what is already a botched announcement. “I’m not sick, Grams. I’m pregnant.”

There’s one beat of silence for me to worry about what her response will be before she’s happy-shouting through the phone. “Are you serious? Sweetheart! How far along? Oh, honey, I’m so happy for you. I’m so— Are you nauseous? Have you been taking vitamins?”

I laugh and start answering as many of her questions as I can manage. “I’m almost two months, but everything is going well. The baby is healthy and happy, and I’m happy. I’m really happy.”

“Oh, my darling, I’m—” She hiccups again. “This is the best news you ever could have given me.”

“I wanted to tell you in person,” I whisper. “I had this whole plan. We were going to have breakfast at Moody’s, with apple pancakes…”

“Oh, honey.” Her voice wobbles. “We’ll do that. When all this is over, we’ll celebrate properly. Have you been craving anything yet?”

I laugh softly. “Everything and nothing. Yesterday, I cried because we didn’t have pickles. Then, when Louisa brought some, I couldn’t stand the smell.”

“That’s exactly how I was with your father.” She catches herself, the words hanging heavy between us. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have?—”

“No, it’s okay.” I swallow hard. “I want to hear about it. About the good memories, too. Even if they’re about him.”

“You’re going to be such a wonderful mother, Nova.” She sighs. “So much better than… well. My point is, you know what real love looks like. What it feels like to want to protect someone.”

Something in her tone shifts then, takes on an edge I’ve never heard before.

“But I need you to do something for me, sweetheart.”

“Okay?”

“Listen to Samuil,” she insists. “Listen to him and trust that he’s going to keep you safe.”

My jaw actually drops. Of all the things I thought Grams would say, that wasn’t it.

And she’s not done yet, either.

“Your father and brothers were in a mess with the wrong people and they were killed for it. Those people could come after you next. I need to know you are going to be safe, and Samuil can do that. He’s a good man.”

“Grams—” I jump up and start pacing along the water’s edge. “How can you be so sure about him? You barely know him.”

“I know enough.” Her voice hardens with conviction. “I know he checks on me every day. Makes sure I have everything I need. I know he cares.”

I stop in my tracks. “He does?”

“And when he talks about you…” She pauses, and I hold my breath. “Well, a mother knows these things. Even if I’m just a grandmother.” So promise me,” she continues with surprising intensity. “I want to hear you swear that you’ll do what’s best for yourself and my great-grandchild. Swear it.”

I close my eyes and picture him. It’s only the wind tousling my hair, but I could swear it’s Samuil’s fingers combing through. I know it’s only the storm booming, but I could swear it’s his voice. I know it’s only a drop of rain kissing my cheek, but I could swear it’s him.

He’s here. He’s not actually, but he is in all the ways that matter.

But is that enough? Is the ghost of Samuil as good as the real thing? Or, maybe even worse—is his presence worse than his ghost? Because even when it really is Samuil touching me, kissing me, whispering to me, he comes with so much more. Shadows trailing him, guns tucked in desk drawers, that cold steel of his voice when he switches languages and has conversations I can’t understand.

Can I trust that? Trust him?

Do I really have a choice?

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